


Third Time's the Charm

by TheLonelyJournalKeeper



Series: Ni No Kuni Hogwarts AU [5]
Category: Ni No Kuni: Wrath of the White Witch, Ni no Kuni
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Bickering, Conversations, F/M, Getting Together, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Kissing, One Shot, Quidditch, Romantic Fluff, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-17 17:51:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyJournalKeeper/pseuds/TheLonelyJournalKeeper
Summary: It's time for the final Quidditch match of the year, the match that will decide who wins the House Championship, Gryffindor or Slytherin? Only problem is, Swaine can't decide who he's rooting for.





	

Quidditch wasn’t really Swaine’s thing. Flying about on broomsticks, scoring points, and trying not to get killed by bludgers? Nah, he’d pass.

But _everyone_ cared about this match. It was the last of the year—the decider for who would win the house championship. And it had come down to Slytherin versus Gryffindor. 

Which meant it was a good time to start developing some house spirit if only to piss off a certain Gryffindor chaser named Esther.

To make matters even more tense, Oliver played seeker on the Slytherin team. Normally, this was the source of some light-hearted rivalry amongst the friends. Swaine didn’t really care enough about Quidditch to take it seriously, but it was always a bit heightened whenever Slytherin and Gryffindor had a match, especially one as important as this. 

The day of the match, the rivalry between the two houses escalated into a few hexes between some of the more competitive students which Swaine thought was a bit unnecessary. 

He was supporting Slytherin obviously (mostly Oliver), but he wasn’t about to go hexing anyone over it. Well, not unless they really annoyed him in which case he might do something, but it probably wouldn’t be a hex. 

The Great Hall was more colorful than usual today as many students had decided to show their support for their favored team with flags or scarves or things. There was a lot more maroon than green, but that didn’t particularly surprise Swaine. He’d grabbed a little green and silver flag that morning. Then, since the odds of a Gryffindor victory were going three to one, he’d pocketed a maroon and gold one too.

Oliver had noticed and grinned. “Is that for Esther?” 

“No, of course not! I just don’t wanna be supporting the losing side is all. You better make sure I don’t have to use it.”

It was a little bit for Esther, but he wasn’t going to say so _out loud_. 

Swaine noticed Myrtle at the Hufflepuff table was thinking along the same lines as she was bedecked in both maroon and green. He was pleased to see Marcassin wearing a green and silver badge though. Supporting Slytherin wasn’t a terribly popular choice in Ravenclaw. 

Esther stopped by to discuss the weather conditions with Oliver. Her blue eyes were bright with excitement as she turned to Swaine. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” 

“Er…I might,” he said, smirking. “You’re going to need it after all.”

“Oh, really, Swaine? Good luck to you and Oliver then. Slytherin may have a good seeker, but your chaser line-up isn’t very strong.” 

“Yeah, but the seeker’s the one who wins the game, isn’t he?” Swaine clapped Oliver on the shoulder. “Oliver here’ll carry the day.”

“I’ll try my best!” Oliver said determinedly. 

Esther smiled and lifted her chin. “And so will I.”

It was a breezy day as Swaine went to find a place in the stands. Esther and Oliver had already gone to their respective changing rooms so he was all alone, but he didn’t mind especially. The atmosphere of tension and excitement was infectious as he waited for the players to gather on the field.

It wasn’t a long wait. A few minutes later the Slytherin team marched out in emerald green. Swaine cheered with the rest of his house and waved his flag. He could easily pick out Oliver as the smallest player on the team. 

The Gryffindor team soon followed. They were greeted by much louder applause. Whatever. Swaine’s gaze quickly found Esther. Her golden hair gleamed in the light and whipped about in the breeze, somewhat restrained by her ponytail. It was sort of strange to see her in scarlet, but she looked good. Determination and excitement played on her face. 

Not that Swaine was using his binoculars to stare at her before the game had properly started. 

He watched as the team captains shook hands. There was a great roar from the crowd as the players kicked off. 

Swaine trained his sights on Oliver who quickly flew up, up, up, out of harm’s way. He liked watching Oliver fly. He did with such sure-footed enthusiasm. Swaine supposed that came from being raised as a Muggle and never having flown before coming to Hogwarts. That would probably give you an passion for flying. Swaine was the opposite. He was much more interested in Muggle engineering.

This _definitely_ didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was no good at magic anyway. 

But since there was no sign of the Snitch yet, Oliver was just doing a lot of circling, less like a hawk and more like an excitable green robin.

Swaine switched to watching Esther and discovered he _really_ liked watching her fly. She was graceful and lively. She could turn on dime and react rapidly to her surroundings, but she still gave the impression she was having fun. It was a bit like a performance, a dance. Swaine supposed that made sense. She _was_ a dancer after all. He hadn’t known that could affect flying though. 

As he watched, he was starting to see what she’d meant about the chaser line-up though. They were good. The Gryffindor chasers were flying circles around the Slytherins. Literally in some cases. They scored goal after goal with while the Quidditch commentator raved. If they kept this up, it really wouldn’t matter who caught the Snitch which was a mildly worrisome thought.

Esther was contributing no small part of these scores to wild cheering from the Gryffindors. Swaine couldn’t suppress a whoop of appreciation as she made a particularly impressive goal. 

“What?” he said defensively as a nearby Slytherin shot him a look. “It was a good shot!” 

The Slytherin rolled her eyes, but Swaine ignored her. 

Gryffindor scored another goal. The girl boo-ed. Roughly three-quarters of the stadium erupted in cheering.

A few minutes later, one of the Slytherin chasers managed to swipe the Quaffle, dodge a bludger, and score the first goal for Slytherin, making the score ten to seventy. 

“About time!” Swaine called, clapping. The girl paused in her cheering to shoot him another look, and he rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m cheering and everything,” he said. “Tons of pride.” 

For the moment at least. As the game progressed and Slytherin started to lose _spectacularly_ , it dimmed somewhat.

“C’mon, Oliver,” he muttered. “Hurry up and get the Snitch. This is getting embarrassing.” 

After Esther scored the seventeenth goal for Gryffindor, putting them beyond just about any hope of winning, Swaine gave a loud groan and gave up. 

He pulled out the Gryffindor flag and, because that girl was still shooting daggers at him, pushed through the stands to go find Marcassin. 

“Enjoying the match?” Swaine said, coming to stand next to his brother who was gazing out at the field. 

Marcassin startled almost imperceptibly. Most people wouldn’t have noticed it, but Swaine was pretty good at reading him. 

“Oh. Yes. Quite.”

“Well, that’s good. We’re getting trounced.” 

“You seem to have given up on victory,” Marcassin noted with a look at the flag. 

Swaine shrugged. “Eh, I know when to cut my losses.” 

Marcassin half-smiled. “Indeed. Is it for Esther?” 

Swaine crossed his arms. “Yeah, what of it?” 

“She’s playing very well today, don’t you think?” Marcassin said which wasn’t really an answer.

“Yeah. I s’pose she is…” 

They both clapped as Gryffindor’s score broke two hundred. 

It suddenly occurred to Swaine that he hadn’t checked on Oliver in a while. He took a moment to locate him—and did a double-take. One moment Oliver was hovering near the middle of the field, flying lazy, searching circles. The next, he was pressed flat against his broom as he rocketed in the direction of the Gryffindor goal post. 

Swaine nudged Marcassin. “What’s all this then?” 

The crowd began to murmur excitedly and point at the field. Whizzing around below the Gryffindor keeper was a tiny flash of gold.

“He seems to have spotted the Snitch,” Marcassin noted. 

Swaine laughed. “You reckon?” Then he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Go for it, Oliver! Cut your losses now!” 

There was a lot of shouting, both angry and jubilant as those the spectators calculated what the score would be if Oliver caught it. 160 to 200 for Gryffindor. 

The Gryffindor seeker, half the field away, did not fail to notice what all the excitement was about. She sped off in the direction of Oliver who was hovering near the Snitch as though afraid to startle it. 

This seemed to decide it for him, and he darted for the Snitch. It zipped away out of reach. He swiped and missed, wheeled around on his broom and snatched it out of the air. 

“Nice catch!” Swaine shouted. His voice was lost amidst all the yelling however.

“Gryffindor wins the match and the cup!” announced the commentator.

A kind of triumphant explosion took place where most of the Gryffindors were congregated in the stands. The Slytherins groaned and booed while the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs clapped, more or less satisfied with the result.

Swaine rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. What exactly was everyone expecting?”

“Who can say? But it was a good match regardless,” Marcassin put in.

“Yeah, it was alright,” Swaine smirked. “I’ll have to tell Oliver he did well, but Esther’ll be insufferable.” 

Marcassin looked amused which was an odd expression for him. “Will she now?”

“Well, her and the rest of the Gryffindors. They’re going to be unbearable for _weeks_.” 

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” said Marcassin.

“Are you developing a sense of humor?” Swaine said disbelievingly. 

“Of course not, brother.” 

Swaine crossed his arms. “Well, about time. I’m going to make sure Oliver’s alright after that crushing defeat.” 

“I see. Give him my regards.” 

“Yeah, alright. Whatever regards are, I’ll give ‘em to him.”

He met Oliver down near the field where he was apologizing to the Slytherin team captain. 

“I’m real sorry we lost. Do you think I should’ve waited a bit for us to catch up in points before I caught it? Only, the other seeker saw it too so I thought I should catch it before she did,” he said apologetically. 

The Slytherin team captain, like most people, had a soft spot for Oliver. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Honestly, you saved us from an even more embarrassing defeat. We were pretty far behind. Those Gryffindor chasers are too damn good.” He scowled. “We’ll get them back for this next year.”

Oliver smiled. “We sure will!” He noticed Swaine. “Hi there, Swaine! Did you enjoy the match?” 

“Yeah, it wasn’t too bad. Nice catch there, kiddo.” 

“Gee, thanks! Esther played real well. Did you see that, Swaine?” 

“Heh, I may have noticed that. Erm, speaking of, where is she?” 

“Oh, she’s over there with the rest of the Gryffindors celebrating. Looks like they’re having a real good time. I bet there’s gonna be a party.”

“Reckon they’d let us gate-crash?” Swaine smirked. 

“Maybe if we asked nicely,” Oliver said with a laugh. 

“Alright,” Swaine said. “I’ll go get us invitations.”

He’d been planning on sneaking over to the Gryffindors with his usual thief-like stealth and tapping Esther on the shoulder, but instead, she noticed him coming and pushed her way out of the crowd. She ran over to him, beaming in triumph.

Her eyes were alight and her hair bouncing as she skidded to a halt right in front of Swaine. Right in front of Swaine. Like she was inches away, looking up at him with an expression of pure delight. Swaine temporarily forgot how to speak. 

“So?” Esther said, grinning.

“Eh?” 

“What did you think of the match?” 

“Terrible,” he said, smirking. “A devastating loss. See if I come here again!”

Esther nodded. “Yes, I can see that. I liked your Gryffindor flag by the way.”

“Noticed that, did you? From all the way up there?” 

“I was looking for you.”

“O-oh, you were? That’s good then. It was for you after—“ He stopped. He recognized that look. “Hang on, are you about to—Oh, what the hell.” 

He kissed her. She was so close anyway that he only had to lean down a bit to capture her lips with his own. He felt a bit reckless, being the one to kiss her, but it was well worth it as she threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed him back.

After a moment, she released him, and he pulled away, feeling somewhat embarrassed. The Gryffindor team was right over there. They’d probably seen. Whatever. 

“So, uh, there’s a Hogsmeade visit next weekend,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. “You wanna go with me?” 

She smiled at him and lifted her chin. “You know what? I’d like that, Swaine.”

“Oh. Alright then. That’s settled.”

Well, third time’s the charm.


End file.
